


Detect This

by LeviSqueaks



Series: The Great Sam Winchester Bingo Card Challenge [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, It's super short but cute, Sam is a Detective, Sanford!Sam, The Great Sam Winchester Bingo Challenge, free space fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviSqueaks/pseuds/LeviSqueaks
Summary: This is a little drabble I wrote about an AU!Sammy that deserves to be seen and shared. Sam signed up to be a detective.
Series: The Great Sam Winchester Bingo Card Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/914565
Kudos: 6
Collections: Sam Winchester Bingo





	Detect This

Sam Winchester felt like a fraud.

It really wasn’t that surprising, he thought. After all, the week before he’d been nothing but a lowly researcher stuck in the back rooms of the precinct. He had never done anything remarkable enough to stick out… except when he stood up and towered head and sometimes shoulders over everyone else in the department. Still, he had been content to spend his days fulfilling orders, finding information, organizing the evidence room, cleaning out files, and generally being helpful but unobtrusive.

Sam had spent his undergraduate semesters working in the library to help pay for his tuition while studying pre-law and sociology with a focus in criminal justice. He could always be found in the library, usually surrounded by mountains of books and typing with alarming speed on an older laptop, headphones in. Sam had always loved getting to research laws and their impact on individuals and society and he had always fancied himself an advocate for the downtrodden. 

He had always planned to get through his undergrad as fast as possible while focusing on his pre-law classes and then immediately work on his LSAT and get into a good law school. He had wanted to be a lawyer and help those who had found themselves on the wrong side of justice. He had dreamed about getting to argue a case and showing clients to the world as humans instead of criminals… So it had come as a complete shock that he’d hated his law classes and that he’d gotten so caught up in his criminal justice classes instead. 

His love for sociology and that one information technology class, which had taught him refined hacking and data mining skills, had him at the registrar’s office at an insufferably early hour one morning about two weeks into his second semester, changing some of his classes to incorporate more of his interests. He had graduated with honors holding a degree of Sociology with a minor in IT and had immediately followed with grad school, focusing his master’s program on criminal justice with a concentration in victimology.

While doing his master’s program he had realized his time in the library really wasn’t cutting it either by giving him the experience he needed, or the pay to keep up with his appetite, and had applied to the local precinct for a secretarial job, assuming it would work as just one other avenue into getting into work as a police officer once he graduated.

He loved his job and relished every chance to help them with research in between his other duties. His professors continued to push him while he worked, and at times he was too tired to undress before passing out, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He blissfully spent his days doing homework, cataloguing effects and evidence, and occasionally carrying out some help with the research; the highlight to every week.

Then the fateful day came.

Detective Henriksen had come into the back, brows furrowed and obviously frustrated with his newest case. Sam knew of him, of course, he was the detective who had been on the news the year previous after stumbling onto a case that led to him busting up a prostitution ring. Sam thought the man was a hero and had itched to introduce himself… but had never mustered up   
the courage to approach him until now.

Henriksen had come back to the department while Sam was there, lazily coding up a new section of the website, and had requested help from anyone in the department. He wanted someone to help him find background on a suspect that had come up blank. He explained, once Sam had eagerly jumped at the chance, that he couldn’t find anything on one Dean Smith, and that he wanted someone with better searching skills to try to dig something up… anything. 

Sam’s biggest problem had always been his tendency to lose himself in research projects. That time proved to be no different from his research papers that doubled length requirements, or his two hundred and fifteen page thesis on the intricacies of victim-blaming and low crime reporting and the devastating impact on marginalized communities. He still wasn’t sure how he had gotten that done in the span of July and the one week he had been sick with the flu. 

Sam went after the case like a hound chases a rabbit.

He had buried himself in old data, traffic cameras, school records, arrest warrants, and old newspaper clippings detailing similar crimes across the country, trying to find some lead on this Dean Smith who had been caught winking on camera right before a shootout at a bank.

So then, twenty-two hours later, he had felt the triumphant zing strike through him that let a smile curve his lips as he approached Henriksen’s desk with bleary eyes, a cowlick, and a coffee stain on his sleeve. “Hey Winchester, you hit a wall too?” Henriksen had asked in resignation before gaping as Sam dropped over three hundred pages worth of information about one Dean Smith, a high school dropout with a ‘67 Chevy Impala and seven dollars and 23 cents to his name (according to his bank account).

Henriksen had been floored, and had immediately dragged the protesting twenty-three-year-old into the chief’s office, demanding to have Sam moved to his team and made a detective.

Of course it hadn’t been that easy, and Chief Turner had read them both the riot act about overzealous children demanding things without having the slightest clue about the requirements and steps that one had to take.

Sam had stuttered out an apology while Rufus pulled up his employee file, then shut up when ordered to as Chief Turner realized just how qualified he was with his recent graduation. There had been a few more threats that Sam could hardly remember at the moment, but the conversation (that Sam had participated in with 3 entire words) eventually boiled down to ‘We’ll try it out,” before Rufus ordered Sam to show up at eight on Monday in a suit.

So here he was, all six-foot-five of him, squished into a cheap suit from Sears that barely fit his broad shoulders, clutching a coffee and wondering if he could call out dead and never show his face again. He didn’t think it was the most sensible option, but it certainly felt like a better plan than going into work and showing just how inept he was.

“Sam!” came the familiar voice of Henriksen from the right. Sam turned to find the man, causing his shaggy bangs to flip into his eyes. The other was walking forward, confident gait and an easy smile. “Good to see you, let’s keep going on that Smith case, huh?” he suggested and clapped Sam on the back as he came up, guiding the younger man inside and to his desk. “As soon as we catch that son of a bitch, we can go celebrate with a nice steak dinner,” he suggested with a grin. “Sound good, Winchester?”

Sam felt the taut strings of tension in his stomach lessen from the enthusiastic greeting and he nodded, sliding in behind his new desk and smoothing his hands over the cool, clean surface as he took a deep breath, “Yeah… yeah that sounds great,” he agreed while he tugged out the paperwork. His face lit up and he shifted before addressing Henriksen, “So, I did some research, and you’re not going to believe this but…”

Maybe he was meant to do this after all.


End file.
